


Human

by Authorks (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural, destiel - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Spoilers, sam is too desperate to care, season 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-25 18:53:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3821101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Authorks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel learns the importance of the small things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Dean, Sam, and Cas were cleaning out a nest of fangs in Colorado. This was supposed to be a simple clean up job for an injured hunter in the state, but Sam's real goal on this hunt threw everything off. He was so desperate to save Dean; nothing would get in his way. Not even Cas._

  Sam's been working with Rowena for quite some time now. Though he had her chained, she didn't fail to get inside his head. She made it seem like she was Dean's only shot with every word she spoke, which in turn made Sam more desperate. She'd used the codex to translate some of the book, always complaining about the unclear script (it was written in blood, after all). She'd figured out the ingredients for the curse reversal, but not the spell itself. You need the grace of a fallen angel, the first blade present, and the blood of the mark bearer.

  As Dean kicked down the door of the nest, Cas and Sam charged inside. Cas may not have his wings, but he's still a warrior of heaven, and swift with a blade. Cas plunged the blade into the neck of a vamp, Sam beheading one just beside him. Dean had already run into one of the hallways, opening doors and chopping off heads as he went. Cas began to walk into the back of the house, the fangs now fully aware of their intruders. Sam had split off into another hall.

  Cas reached for the doorknob to a closet pantry just as a vamp lunged at him from the far side of the kitchen. He was knocked back into the door, but turned to face the monster and drove his blade through its chest. It was a girl looking no older than twenty, but she could've lived centuries longer than that. She went limp over him, and the life drained out of her.

  Castiel shoved her body off of his own as he heard loud footsteps approaching. Dean appeared in the kitchen's entryway and stepped forward, offering a hand to Cas, who was still lying against the door of the pantry. He wrapped his hand around Dean's wrist, and Dean did the same to him, pulling him up from the ground. Their fingertips were burning where they held onto one another's wrists, longing causing a hollow ache in their chests.

  Sam stepped into the kitchen at this moment, and Dean immediately dropped his hand from Cas' arm. "All clear?" he asked simply, tilted his head down slightly in Sam's direction. "Yeah, I need to do a run through of upstairs," he replied casually. Sam needed an excuse for Cas to be alone with him. "Cas and I will do another check, if you'd get my other machete from the car," Sam said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "Yeah, sure," Dean returned simply.

  Cas was wiping the blade off on a tattered rag when Sam decided to break the silence. "Guess it work on fangs too, then," he offered. "It seems to apply to any creature at a lower class than my kin," Castiel said in his usual deadpan voice. Sam stalked forward slowly enough for it not to be noticed, and asked, "Could I.. See it.. By chance..?" Sam quickly grabbed the blade Cas held out to him. In a single movement, he had the blade up to Cas' throat. "I'm sorry," is all he said before dragging it deeply across the flesh, crimson running from the gash and pooling at his collar. The edges of Castiel's vision became blurred as Sam held a vial up to his neck and allowed his grace to flow into it. Sam let go of him and he sank to the floor. He ran to the back door as Cas pressed a hand to his neck.

  "Sam, I have your mache-" Dean started as he walked into the kitchen. Castiel heard metal clatter to the floor, and felt two fingers press to his wrist. "Cas, buddy hey, open those blue ones for me," Dean ordered, panic straining his voice. Castiel's eyes opened for a moment, and he looked up at Dean. "What _happened_?" Dean whispered urgently. "Sam took-" was all Cas got out before he realized how painful it was to speak. He told Dean the rest in a single look, pain washing over his features as he realized the state of his other wounds. "I-it's alright, I uh- we'll get you fixed up, you need to get to a hospital, _fuck_ , I can't take care of this," he rambled, reaching up a hand to press over the gash on Cas' neck.

  Dean half-carried Cas to the car as he slowly lost consciousness. He set him down in the passenger seat, hardly registering the blood that could get on baby's seats. He ran to the other side of the car, and slammed the door as he sat down. The engine roared to life as he turned the key, and he reapplied pressure over the wound in Cas' neck. He drove like this, one hand on the wheel, all the way to the hospital. Cas' eyes would occasionally flutter open, and he'd stare at the dash for a moment before allowing them to fall shut again.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean burst through the door to the ER, Cas slumped against his side and an arm around his neck. A young woman ran up to him to assess the situation, then called over several other doctors dressed in scrubs. As they took him away, she looked to Dean for answers. "We uh- we were out in town, a-and I left for a second, and when I came back he was just-" he lied quickly, straining to keep calm. "And his name?" she inquired, offering a concerned look. "Castiel," he said almost too quickly. Her eyebrows furrowed for a moment, and Dean thought of the times Cas' brows knitted together when he was confused. . " _Sir_ ," she said, Dean hadn't even heard her the first time. "His last name?" _Did Cas even have a last name?_ He thought for a moment, then nearly tripped over his own tongue saying, "Winchester, like the gun."

  Dean doesn't remember when he laid his head down on the edge of the hospital bed, and he doesn't care. The steady beeps of the heart monitor were enough to ease his tense shoulders. He noticed the beeps' pace picked up slightly, and lifted his head from the white sheets.

  It'd been hours since they'd let him in the room, saying things about the state of his injuries, and how he can go home after he wakes up. The young woman he spoke to earlier then handed him a bag full of pill bottles, rambling on about different times he'd need to take them. Dean mumbled a simple, "Yeah, yeah," and looked into the hospital room.

  Dean's eyes trailed over the bandaging on Cas' neck as he stirred slightly, his face twisting into one of pain. He began to sit up, but Dean placed a hand on his shoulder and pressed slightly. "Hey, not the brightest idea," he said roughly. Cas relaxed, opening his eyes as he allowed himself to press back into the pillows. "He apologized," Cas said simply, curiosity bleeding through. "What?" "Sam. He apologized before cutting out my grace." He pondered for a moment. "He cut deeper than he needed to. I think he intended to delay you searching for him," Cas returned plainly. Dean sat back in the chair they'd brought in from the lobby. "Does sound like something he'd think of," he said, almost to himself. They sat in comfortable silence for the next few minutes.

  A quiet knock came at the door of the room, and the door opened slowly. The young woman who handed Dean the pills walked in, looking surprised to see Castiel awake. "Oh, you're up. They expected you to be out for longer," she said cheerily. She then turned to Dean. "You're allowed to take him back after we clear up some paperwork." Dean looked down at the clipboard in her hands.

  They were walking to the car when Dean asked, "He did just cut your throat, right? No fight?" "Yes, why do you ask?" Cas turned to him as he opened the car door. "You were pretty badly injured, man," Dean said, trying not to let the concern come through in his voice. "I was still healing from previous encounters. Losing my grace while healing makes my injuries more visible," he said matter-of-factly. Dean opened the door to the impala as Cas was sitting down. He asked a question that'd been bothering him since he was calm enough to think. "Why would Sam need your grace?" he said as he climbed in, dropping the bag of pill bottles on he arm rest. "There are plenty of spells that need an angel's grace. I suppose I was convenient," he said, barely thinking of the question. They were quiet for the rest of the drive.


	3. Chapter 3

  The engine's roar quieted to a rumble, then cut off as Dean parked the car outside of the bunker. It was almost dawn now, but still dark as he cut the engine and reached for the handle of the door. He'd been running on autopilot the entire drive, staring out into the road, only headlights lighting the way. He let his arm fall from the handle, and looked over at Cas. He was slumped against the door, presumably asleep. Dean smiled tiredly, and reached to tap his shoulder.

  Before he got there, Cas sucked in a deep, shaky breath. "Mmph," he mumbled against the door. Then Dean heard his name fall from Cas' lips as his face twisted into one of fear. His smile faltered, and he panicked momentarily.

  "Cas! _Cas_ , hey," Dean said, a hand gripping Cas' shoulder. He sat up from his sleep, hands frantically moving to grab onto anyone, _anything_. Dean replaced his hand on Cas' arm, and he relaxed. "Hey, calm down," Dean said slowly. "You alright?" he already knew the answer to that question, but this was how they spoke to each other, same as always. "Y-yes," Castiel cursed the stutter under his breath. "Yes," he said, closing his eyes and leaning back into the headrest. Dean's hand fell from Cas' arm, and the now empty spot felt cold, even with his coat sleeve pulled down over it.

  He straightened his posture, forcing any thought of the dream out of his mind. He closed his eyes, taking a slow, deep breath. Upon opening his eyes, he realized Dean was still staring at him. He turned to him, trying his best to flush the fear from his eyes. "We should go," he said simply, and Dean huffed in reply.

  "Up for a sandwich?" Dean offered. It was well past four in the morning now, but they both remained restless. "Sure, yeah," Cas replied. Dean walked over to the small table in he kitchen, first setting down a glass of water, and setting down two sizable pills next to it. He returned several minutes later, this time with two plates. Dean's sandwich was filled with seemingly everything, it was the way he liked it.

  Cas set both pills on his tongue before taking the glass of water. He downed the pills, then set down the glass with a small _clink_. He then picked up the sandwich, noticing how it wasn't as filled as Dean's. Dean watched him expectantly as he took a bite, lettuce and fresh vegetables crunching under his teeth. "Good?" Dean asked, and got a low "Mmph," in response. Cas set down the now half-eaten sandwich. "How is it possible," he wondered aloud, "for you to make the perfect meal," leaning forward against the table now, "for a being who doesn't eat?"

  " _I'm_ _flattered_ ," Dean says triumphantly, laying the sarcasm thick. "But you are eating, aren't you?" he teased. Cas picked up the sandwich again, smiling at Dean over it. He took another grateful bite, thankful that he could stay here this time, be here with Dean, and maybe Charlie could come by, teach him how to make that fortune teller when she's here. Sam could be planning the end of the world for all they know, but that seemed to be a small problem at the moment.

  He smiled into the sandwich, Dean had nearly finished his own. He didn't even know if he wanted his grace back. He wasn't really living if he wasn't feeling _this_ , tasting food, feeling heat, braving the chill of cold wind. He was powerful with his grace, yes. But as a human, he was alive.


End file.
